


世界一片思い：　Ｍａｓｑｕｅｒａｄｅ （海王みちるの場合）

by takaraikarin



Series: 世界一片思い (World's Greatest One-Sided Love) [1]
Category: Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, F/F, One-Sided Attraction, Romance, for now, vague depictions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1779493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takaraikarin/pseuds/takaraikarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sekaiichi Kataomoi: Masquerade -Kaioh Michiru no Baai-</p><p>Michiru had been lectured on about being discreet. She knew all about being coy, about chittering hand-covered laughter, about pointed comments and sneaked glances. There was her mother’s voice in her head, telling her how to play the game of courtship of the genteel crowd. </p><p>She didn’t think those had any place with the heady feeling she felt every time she caught glimpses of Tennoh Haruka around the University.</p>
            </blockquote>





	世界一片思い：　Ｍａｓｑｕｅｒａｄｅ （海王みちるの場合）

**World's Greatest One-Sided Love: Masquerade (In Kaioh Michiru's Case)**

 

 **M** **ichiru** , what’s that?” Yaten asked one day, standing around the locker room beside the Mugen Academy pool, getting ready to jump in.

“Hm?” When Michiru turned after pulling off her blouse, Yaten was already standing right behind her, fingers poised to almost touching Michiru’s back.

“Are those… scars? They’re really faint, you can only see them at a certain angle but- whoa, they’re big!”

“That’s because father felt so guilty, he dragged me around to doctors after doctors, making sure it won’t scar horribly.” Michiru said with a small smile, thought Yaten perked up anyway—it was rare to hear her talk about her parents. 

“Where were they from?”

“A horse riding accident. I fell on some jagged rocks.” 

Yaten internally winced at the mental image. “A horse, huh. That looks more like a monster attacked you.”

Michiru, who was already walking closer towards the pool, stopped at that. The smile she gave Yaten then was a bit more lopsided, losing a degree in warmth. 

“It’d be better if it was, right?”

Yaten blinked at that, another question ready on his tongue, but Michiru already threw herself into the water in a graceful arch. That Michiru… never gets what she’s about sometimes. She sighed, and followed her friend into the water.

 

 **T** **here** were two things Michiru’s grateful of her mother for: the violin, and swimming, although technically she’d probably only take credit for the violin. 

Her mother made her learn everything the hoity-toity crowd would deem ‘ladylike’ from a very young age. She studies everything, from eating to walking to waltzing to ballet. 

_Be a perfect little princess and make your father proud, dear,_ her mother used to say

She had memories of her correcting her posture with a pointed finger at mealtimes, a smile on her face, reminding her that father won’t like a daughter that slouches.

_Straighten your back and we’ll have ice cream for afters, dear,_

It was the violin that stuck, though. Oh, she did all of her lessons because she didn’t want to upset mother, sure, but the violin lesson was the one that she took with a spring in her steps. Even in the later years, when her mother was upset more often than not, Michiru could always excuse herself to her room to practice, and she’d spend hours playing pieces after pieces.

It was a great way to drown out crying sounds.

Her love for being in the water also came early. She remembered the exact date; it was her eighth birthday, she was in her pure white birthday dress that her mother made for her for the occasion, especially to greet her father in. 

But he didn’t come. 

He didn’t come for her seventh nor her sixth birthday too, so Michiru wasn’t really sure why mother would expect him to come then. Her mother was adamant, though. _The weather must be bad in Japan,_ she said to nobody in particular. _His flight must’ve been delayed. The traffic in downtown Nice is always horrible, he must be stuck in a jam._

Michiru sat at the dining table with her back straight, in front of a five course meal and the birthday cake she mustn’t touch. 

_Wait for your father, dear, he must be jetlagged, famished, he’d want to eat with us._

She remembered how the strawberry cake looked really delicious, and wondered if father’s family in Tokyo ate without him around. 

It was already passed her birthday when mother started crying. It always started out the same, that whole crying over father, bitter tears accompanying litany of insults to father’s wife and his children. Why would he be paying so much attention to them, her mother asked. Their child is wonderful too.

 _Aren’t you, Michiru, aren’t you a wonderful little princess?_ She reached for her, grabbed her into her arms. _You should be studying harder, Michiru, father wouldn’t want to meet a flawed princess. Have you been studying, Michiru?_ Have _you been learning your etiquettes?_

_Then why isn’t he coming home, dear?_

Michiru only remembered glimpses of being dragged into the bathroom that first time, the servants’ shrieks in distress muffled the moment mother locked the door. The tub was already filled with water, the temperature set just the way father liked it. But father wasn’t there, so mother put Michiru in it instead. 

That was when Michiru learned that water, like violins, is great to drown out crying sounds, too. She couldn’t hear her mother’s lamentation as she was held beneath the surface. In the water, she seemed to be enveloped in a soft embrace she never felt before. The water washed out the tears from her eyes, cleared out her head. A warm stillness spread within her, a complete opposite to the chaos above the surface. Even as her lungs started burning and blotches of brightness grew behind her eyelids, she still wanted to surrender to the embrace.

Michiru wouldn’t have minded never coming out.

She got better over the years. Could stay under longer and longer before losing consciousness. Still felt slightly cheated when she woke up after each ordeal, opening her eyed and not breathing in water. The remnants of the young child in her dreamed about how lovely it would be to get carried away by the waves, though she was old enough to know, that can’t happen in a bathtub. 

As soon as she was old enough, Michiru signed up for a diving course. The servant who saw her application looked at her like she’d grown another head. She looked like she thought Michiru should want to run away from bodies of water, but Michiru wanted nothing more than to be carried away by the current. 

She had to refrain from joining up on her fourteenth summer, the injury to her back still preventing her from strenuous physical extortions. The red welts still looked raw, as angry as mother was after another birthday dinner—this time hers—that went to waste in the absence of father; the slashes identical to the carved fire iron in the living room hearth. Ironically, that was what ended up bringing father to their home. Months and a succession of doctors afterwards, he brought her on a one-way flight to Japan.

Now, here in Tokyo, Michiru’s quite content with swimming pools. Though she did go to Karuizawa over the summer once, and the sea was as welcoming as ever.

“Michiru, wait.”

She paused her movement at Yaten’s voice.

“What you said just then, about things that’re worse than monsters, what do you mean?”

Michiru tilted her head. “Let me tell you a secret, Yaten,

“There above ground,” Michiru pointed to the sides of the pool. “There are things worse than monsters that can hurt you.”

“Like… horses?”

“Hmm, not quite.

“You’ll be fine if you keep under water, though.” She quipped before submerging again, leaving Yaten still bewildered as she followed the girl’s butterfly strokes. The crisscross of scars on her back that were barely visible on dry land was virtually invisible against her now wet, glistening skin. 

It was like she was being purified by water. 

 

 **B** **raiding** your own hair is pretty tricky, Michiru had to admit. She had nobody else to ask for help, though. The only one who has ever handled her hair was her late grand-mère. It was a lot easier when she was still around.

A lot of things about life were much easier when grand-mère was still around. 

The woman had doted on Michiru, and not in the way her mother does, where she saw the girl as pawn to get to her father, no. For grand-mère, Michiru was just the grandchild she adored. She came to all of her productions, whatever it was that Mother made her do, although watching her dance ballet was her favorite. It helped that mother rarely went off the handle when grand-mère was still around, deferring to her and backed down when she were told that she overexerted the girl. 

Michiru couldn’t help but sigh remembering the woman, in her hand she held the antique hand-mirror that she’d left her dear grandchild with on her deathbed. 

_So melancholic this early in the morning, Michiru,_ she admonished herself. But she’d heard from her father’s secretary that he was in France to sort some issues. Father being in France always made her uneasy. She woke up wanting the simple comfort of her grand-mère, and as such the hand-mirror was taken out of its storage, and her hair was once again in braids like she was back to being five. 

“Nice braids,” Yaten said as they met in their living room, they left their unit with Yaten double-checking the door. 

“Thank you,” the girl answered before putting her hand-mirror into her tote bag. 

On any other people, Yaten would’ve asked about carrying hand-mirrors to class, but with Michiru she chalked it up to it being ‘a Michiru thing’. They parted ways in the Northern arcade, Yaten to her class and Michiru to her still life studio. 

 

 **A** **nother** ‘Michiru thing’, is that she could be pretty heartless sometimes.

“You can be pretty heartless sometimes, you know that, right?” Yaten mused when she met again with her friend over lunch break. Michiru looked up from her salad. 

“I can?” she asked back, head tilted in _that_ way, that made Yaten wanted to strangle her sometimes. She _must_ know how much she gets to have things her way when she does that. 

“And there you go with the tilting thing.” She deadpanned instead. 

Michiru blinked and consciously corrected her posture. _Well. Over-corrected._ Now she looked like she’s in a formal banquet as opposed to just eating lunch in the University’s cafeteria. “Better?” She asked.

“Not quite.”

They both sighed. Michiru’s default was the well-bred girl mannerism of hers, Yaten should get that by know, she knew, but sometimes she’s the one that gets tired watching her be perfect. _Oh how Mom would’ve loved it if that’s my default._ She’d want to trade child-raising tips with Michiru’s mother in that case, she’s sure. Yaten swore never to ask Michiru to let them meet.

“Never mind that. Tell me about my being heartless,” Michiru reminded. 

“You really don’t notice?” Yaten asked back. “That Kataoka guy?” Yaten pointed to the guy who just accosted the two of them five minutes prior, still stealing glances at Michiru from a few tables over, completely ignoring what appeared to be a steaming bowl of udon in front of him. “Who just happened to have all the notes from when you missed class? And he just gave them all to you?”

“He’s studious,” she replied, flipping over the notes for Contemporary Art History that Kataoka Hideyuki was kind enough to let her have, crossing the pedestrian skyway all the way to Building 5 when he saw her from the cafeteria window, saying that he was worried she’d be behind on her studying after her sick leave. 

“He didn’t lend them to you, Michiru, he _gave_ them to you. And didn’t I hear something about your clayware partner finishing your project for you?”

“Oh, if it’s about Bidoh-kun, he knows I’m not into three-dimentionals, and he’s really passionate about it,”

“I heard he was pretty passionate about giving you tickets for the Tokyo Ballet, too…” 

“Oh, yeah, want to come with, Yaten-chan? He gave me two tickets for L'après-midi d'un faune,” Michiru brightened remembering the tickets in her purse. It was so nice of Bidoh-kun to give her tickets for a performance. 

Yaten blinked. “Are you sure those two tickets aren’t supposed to be for you and him?”

Michiru giggled at that, her laughter tinkling, hanging in the air like drops of dew. “Surely not, I’m sure he knows I’m not into boys.”

“Maybe you did that tilting thing at him.”

“I honestly can’t remember, it’s not like I do it consciously,”

“Yep. Heartless.” Yaten said, nodding with conviction. “Maybe the choice of performance was subtext, you nymph.” She added, shaking her head. Her phone buzzing on the table distracted her from the conversation, and Michiru had already gone quiet, looking slightly longingly out the window.

“I want to go swim in the sea,” she said suddenly.

Yaten’s hands halted from texting. “Where did that came from?”

“Ballet makes me melancholic,” Michiru smiled, not really answering the question. 

She’d gotten used to that from her, though, truth be told. Just another ‘Michiru thing’. 

 

 **S** **he** didn’t get to swim in the sea after all, but the Mugen Academy building complex stretched to a section of Tokyo Bay, a circular line of embankment a few meters wide, where the Marine Biology major would climb down from to get samples for their lab works. That was good enough for her, so Michiru made her way there after her last classes ended, just in time to see the sunset casting red hues onto all the blueness in front of her. It felt ominous, somehow. 

A breeze swooped past her, blowing her hair into her face and tugging the ribbon in her hair loose. She tried reaching out to it, but it had already flown out of her hand.

In the distance, a figure lifted up their hand and caught it. 

Michiru watched as track shoes jogged closer to her, along with the person wearing it and her ribbon that they held in their hand. Track shoes stopped right in front of her, and Michiru had to tilt her face upwards to look at their face. 

“I take it this is yours, miss?” the person said. Michiru blinked.

_A man? A woman?_

The person took hold of Michiru’s hand, opened up her palm, and dropped the ribbon there. Their smile was a bit blinding, like staring too long at the sun. In an instant, they were already jogging away from Michiru. 

She noticed she’d completely forgotten to say thank you.

Her mother would’ve been appalled. 

 

 **I** **t** turned out, that person was named Tennoh Haruka, and she’s a woman. With a tendency to cross-dress, apparently. And good enough at it that people mostly handwaved her eccentricities. But then again people around here seemed to be really used to eccentricities. It’d take a lot more than that to unsettle Mugen Academy people, Michiru guessed. Speaking of eccentrics… 

“That cousin of yours, Seiya-kun,” Michiru said and watched Yaten snorted her smoothie, before dissolving into a couching fit. Concerned, Michiru handed her a pack of tissues and patted her back as she tried to get her respiratory system back in order. 

“Second cousin. Why mention her out of nowhere?” her friend said between coughs. 

“Isn’t she in the athletics crowd?”

“American Football, and yes, she’s bff with Haruka-kun.”

That piqued Michiru’s attention

“Oh, so you know her?” 

“The current apple in your eyes? Yeah, I know her,” Yaten said, sly. Michiru’s sure if she was more prone to blushing she’d be doing that by now, but as it was; she thought it was in her place to try some deniability. 

“See, I’ve been trying to draw her running—”

“I know, you’ve been obsessively looking for her with that thing in your hand,” she pointed at Michiru’s sketchbook. “It’s really obvious, you know that, right?”

Michiru had been lectured on about being discreet. She knew all about being coy, about chittering hand-covered laughter, about pointed comments and sneaked glances. There was her mother’s voice in her head, telling her how to play the game of courtship of the genteel crowd. 

She didn’t think those had any place with the heady feeling she felt every time she caught glimpses of Tennoh Haruka around the University. 

“She’s not in any clubs, but she hangs around the athletic and the kyuugi crowd, to maintain her fitness.”

“Why? What does she do?”

“She drives GP2 cars, would’ve been in the F1 by now people say, if not for some… personal stuff.” 

“Hmm, I have no interest in drawing cars, though,”

Yaten giggled at that. “Then your best bet is the tracks and field guys.” 

-

“What’s Yaten-chan doing here? Isn’t she allergic to sports?”

“Hm? Dunno. …that girl besides her though, isn’t that Kaioh-san from the Arts dept?”

“Heh. Trust you to know your pretty girls.”

“Pot, the kettle says shut your hole.”

“Hilarious

….” 

“Haruka?”

“Seems like the delicate type, don’t you think? Not my thing, you can have this one.”

“Wow, that is _not_ in any way skeevy.”

“Shut your hole, kettle.”

-

“Did you get some nice sketches?” Yaten asked after leaving her friend to her sketchbook for a while. 

Michiru sighed. “Not really, it’s all wrong from this angle, and the sun isn’t helping.” 

“Maybe you’ll get a better angle some other time, c’mon, you won’t see a thing with the sun’s setting.”

Michiru walked after Yaten towards the western entrance, though her eyes were unconsciously drawn towards the tall form of Tennoh Haruka again. 

She almost took a step back when she realized Tennoh was looking back at her, the dimming sunshine making her gaze looked almost cold. Michiru shook her head and turned away. 

 

 **T** **hings** had been too peaceful lately; Michiru knew it was too good to be true.

 

 **I** **t** all started with a phone call at three in the morning. And no three in the morning phone calls ever tends to be good. 

Michiru looked at the caller ID, frowning when she read who it was.

“Father? I thought you’re in Fr—”

“Michiru, dear?”

Michiru froze hearing the voice of her mother. 

There was a ringing in her ear as she listened to her talking, as strength drain out of her limbs, as she couldn’t bring herself to hang up. 

She listened as mother asked her how she was, begged the girl to come back to her. Father will come along this time, she said. They’ll be a real family now, she said. She still has Michiru’s toe shoes and missed watching her dance, she said. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” her mother said and Michiru had to remind herself that after all these years, it’s impossible for the scars on her back to still hurt. She held her breath anyway from the burning feeling that started around her shoulder blades and seeping its way in, feeling like it was scorching her chest with every sentence mother uttered. 

“Why aren’t you coming back, dear? You’re a failed princess, but I still have much to teach you. You’ll be the perfect princess for sure, now. 

Aren’t you, Michiru? Aren’t you a failed princess? Nobody would want you. 

Come back home, dear, who would want you but I?”

-

Michiru didn’t remember how the call ended. When she came to herself she was sitting hugging her knees on the foot of her bed, staring blankly at the carpet. 

At the sound of her phone ringing again, she recoiled, couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone, unfocused eyes trained at it.

“Michiru, you in the bathroom? Your phone is—” Yaten stopped dead in the doorway. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern in her voice as she kneeled to Michiru’s eye level on the floor. She looked at the phone.

“Maybe we should answer that, yeah?” 

Not getting a reaction from her friend, Yaten picked up the phone and swiped the call to ‘answer’. 

“Kaioh Michiru’s phone, this is her flatmate speaking,” she answered while her eyes still looked worryingly at Michiru. “Yeah, she’s here… wait, lemme check,”

“Michiru, this Kotobuki-san said he’s your dad’s secretary? D’you wanna talk to him?”

Michiru looked up at that, her hand was shaking slightly as she reached up, but she nodded at the question. Yaten handed the phone over. 

“Hello,” Michiru said, hoping she didn’t sound as shook up as she felt. 

“Please delete Kaioh-kakka’s number, Ojou-sama,” the man said without preamble, cutting straight down to business. “Due to some mishaps in France, it has fallen into another’s hands, we—” 

“Mother…”

“Yes, I’m sorry to inform you that that is the case. We’ll be in touch with Kakka’s new number, until then it would be wise not to answer should that number contacted you.”

“Thank you,” she said, and cut the call before waiting for a reply. 

Well. Her father’s office was as alert as ever, though they were about four hours late. 

“Michiru, are you alright?” Yaten’s concerned face was right in front of hers again. 

Michiru thought of her estranged father and her mother’s call last night. Thought of suicide threats and curt phone calls, of her mother’s cloying perfume and her step siblings’ distant faces, and felt helpless; not knowing what to think, how to feel. 

“Just a bit stressed out, but I’m fine,” she forced a smile on her face. Yaten wasn’t buying it, still looked deeply concerned, but Michiru couldn’t talk to her about these things if she didn’t know what to feel about them herself. “I’m gonna go take a shower and freshen up. Do you have morning class? Have time for breakfast?” She didn’t like the idea of being alone that morning. 

“No, yeah, I have time for breakfast.”

“Let’s go to La Boheme.” Michiru said before closing the door to the en suite bathroom. 

Yaten stood there in the middle of her friend’s room, with the bed that didn’t look slept in and the phone that was still on the carpet, feeling at a lost. 

 

 **Y** **aten** thought the track and field club’s race would cheer Michiru up. She still didn’t know what happened That Morning with The Phonecall—as she refer to it in her head—and didn’t know how to ask Michiru about it. She didn’t look like she’d appreciate Yaten nosing around. 

But this wasn’t nosing around. She’d heard about the race and that Haruka would be participating in it. And if Seiya wasn’t being a prat that day, she might get to introduce Michiru to her.

It’d be great, she could just see it. 

-

“I don’t know if this is okay, Yaten-chan.”

That was the fourth time Michiru asked her that, and any other time it would’ve exasperated Yaten, but she’d been slightly different since that morning. A bit jittery and unsure, prone to jolting in surprise at loud noises. So Yaten only sighed. 

“It’s fine. I asked Seiya a favor, and she said she’d be okay with it ‘cause it’s you. Whatever that means…” Yaten trailed off in a sneer, remembering Seiya’s eyes shining in recognition. 

_Oh_ that _Michiru yeah, sure._ The dark-haired girl had said with a wide grin and Yaten rolled her eyes at that. Typical.

“C’mon Michiru, before they all leave,” Yaten grabbed her friend by the wrist and quicken her steps. “Oh, there they are! Seiya!” she waved. 

“Hey kiddo,” Kou Seiya greeted back, ruffled Yaten’s platinum hair as they arrived. Yaten pretended to be annoyed. 

“No congratulations for me, Yaten-chan?” Haruka teased. “You realized I actually won something, right? Or were you to busy looking at S—”

“Yes, yes, congratulations, you won the 100 meter like everybody knew you would, so nobody’s really impressed.” She hurried to say. “My friend here is impressed enough that she wanted to meet you, though,” 

And that was when the two athletes finally looked behind Yaten to see Michiru. She looked perfectly serene standing there, and Yaten bet she’s the only one that noticed how hard Michiru seem to be gripping her sketchbook. 

“Seiya, Haruka-kun, this is Kaioh Michiru,”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Seiya offered her hand. “I’ve seen some of your artworks, of course. Amazing that the artist is even more beautiful than the paintings.” 

Michiru accepted the handshake perfunctorily while beside her Yaten rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment I’d like to receive as an artist,” Michiru quipped. She could do this. She knew how to wrap her wit around herself like a shield while clavering. 

The person she wanted to meet still hasn’t acknowledged her, though. 

Still holding up her wit like a shield, she directly addressed Tennoh Haruka. Complemented her on her performance, quipped at her about being so far that she’s hearing the wind. Nobody would object to being talked up to that way, surely. 

Tennoh’s face was impassive throughout, though. 

When Michiru asked her her request, if she’d be willing to model for her, Haruka turned back and said:

“I’ll pass. Sorry, princess, I’m not into stuff like that,”

The skin on Michiru’s back prickled at the word 'princess', and she had to fight not to wince outwardly.

Yaten and Seiya blinked in confusion. “The tracks crowds owe me drinks for the day, I’m going, kay,” she continued airily. 

“Dude,” Seiya said, trying to stop her, though Tennoh wasn’t listening. 

“Haruka-kun, what the hell—” Yaten took a few steps forward, looked like she was about to go after her. 

“Yaten-chan, don’t.” Michiru grabbed her wrist before she could go. 

“But Michi…” 

Michiru shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said. Of course it was. Her genteel façade was still firmly up.

Behind it, her head provided memories of father’s absence, of grand-mère leaving her in her sleep, of mother’s failed princess. 

_Who would want you but I, dear?_ her mother's voice said, over and over again. 

But her mask was still on, and it never cracked. 

 

**Stop.**

**Author's Note:**

> \- The title is stolen from Nakamura Shungiku's Sekaiichi Hatsukoi (rather shamelessly and obviously) because I like amusing myself. It translates to The World's Greatest One-sided Love (as opposed to The World's Greatest First Love like the original)  
> \- This part was written with [this song as the BGM](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2EIeUlvHAiM)  
> \- Since this is a non-powered AU, I took the liberty to change the Sailor Starlights' surname as their first name. So the 'Kou' is their surname and the "Yaten", etc are their first name. Because it's beyond weird otherwise.  
> \- For Haruka's side of the story, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1779604).  
> 


End file.
